Dwight Night in City 'Booooo-tiful' another tragic Magic story of what might have been

March 12, 2013|Mike Bianchi, SPORTS COMMENTARY

Sadly it was deja-booooooo all over again.

Just as it was 15 years ago when Orlando Magic fans booed Shaq upon his return to Central Florida. Just as it was 13 years ago when Penny Hardaway got booed upon his return to Central Florida. Just as it was nine years ago when Tracy McGrady got booed upon his return to Central Florida.

Welcome to the City "Booooo-tiful": the unhappiest place on Earth for disowned NBA superstars.

This time, it was Dwight Howard, the greatest player in Magic history, returning to the arena he was largely responsible for getting built and dominating the team he help resurrect from the ruins. We used to call it the Dwight House, but Tuesday night it was the Blight House: the home of forsaken fans and conflicted feelings.

Howard scored a season-high 39 points, yanked down 16 rebounds and tied an NBA record by going to the free-throw line 39 times in the Lakers' 106-97 victory over the Magic: "The Dwightmare on Church Street, Part II: Howard's Homecoming."

Take a picture because this might be the last time for years that the Amway Center is filled with such electricity and passion. The Magic treated this like the NBA Finals against the Lakers four years ago when Dwight was wearing blue and white instead of purple and gold.

The team handed out "rally rackets" to the fans and even trotted out its 12-year-old good-luck charm, Gina Marie Incandela, to sing the national anthem. Magic fans showered Dwight with cathartic catcalls and soul-cleansing sneers, snipes, boos and barbs. They mockingly chided him with a singsong chide of "LOY-AL-TY" and derided him with derogatory signs. One sign referred to him as "Diva 12," and another said, "The real cause of Dwight's back problems? No spine!" A teenager held up a No. 12 Magic jersey with "Howard" crossed out and replaced by "Traitor."

If this is what Magic fans need for closure, so be it. If anybody earned a reception like this, it is Dwight — the duplicitous drama king who lied, cried and denied his way out of town, leaving a shattered franchise, broken dreams, hurt feelings and fired coaches in his wake.

But let's be honest, all last night really meant was this: The Magic still need Dwight to truly sell out their arena. When all the blues and boos had subsided, we were left with this cold reality: The Magic now retreat back to their spider hole of NBA irrelevancy, and Dwight goes back to L.A. as Kobe's designated chew toy.

Howard tried to make it right with Magic fans this week by going on an apology tour in the national media that continued even up to and after the game.

"I expected all the boos and signs," Howard said, "but it's not going to stop the way I feel about this city. … I have nothing but love for the fans here. … I came here as a boy and left as a man. I thank all the fans who supported me. It didn't end the way we all wanted. But I'm in a better place."

Actually, Dwight is still in a state of denial. He's not in a better place. In fact, everybody involved is in a far worse place. The Magic have seen their fan base and TV ratings plummet since his departure, and Dwight, too, has lost everything he once had.

He lost his soul.

He lost his popularity.

He even lost his best friend: Magic point guard Jameer Nelson.

Nelson was one of several Howard teammates insulted last week when Dwight told an L.A. television station that he played with "a team full of people that nobody wanted" in Orlando. Nelson, even though he shook hands with Howard after the game, intimated before the game that he and Howard's friendship is over.

"You make friends during the course of life on the court and off the court," Nelson said. "Some of them stick in your life, and some don't. We still have a lot of life to live, and hopefully we can still be friends after basketball."

Former Magic coach Stan Van Gundy might have put it best: "All of us — virtually every player and every coach — was in a better situation last year than they are now. We've got people all over the place — in different situations — and nobody is in as good a situation as they were before. It's unfortunate, but I think it tells you that you can't take the good times for granted."

The good times are gone, and now all that's left is a wrecked franchise, ruined friendships and a superstar who has gone from beloved to belittled.

"How does it feel," a reporter asked Dwight, "to be a stranger in the house you built?"

Dwight Howard walked away without answering.

Lily Israel, a 12-year-old Magic fan, held up the saddest sign of all:

"Dwight Come Home."

mbianchi@tribune.com. Follow him on Twitter @BianchiWrites. Listen to his radio show every weekday from 6 to 9 a.m. on 740 AM.